


Two Men, Two Bags, Two Tickets

by MidnightLeFay



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Best Friends, Cute Ending, Drabble, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Love, M/M, Modern Era, One Shot, Poor Merlin (Merlin), Post-Battle of Camlann (Merlin), Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Tenderness, Thomas Malory Could Never, Trains, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 11:04:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21196625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightLeFay/pseuds/MidnightLeFay
Summary: Arthur and Merlin are getting on a train to begin their new life together.





	Two Men, Two Bags, Two Tickets

As Merlin’s feet carried him step by step, the man could barely find any solid reason to believe that any of this was reality. It just couldn’t be… _Could it?_

It was still early in the morning, the soft orange light of the sky gently splattered with electric pink clouds. In the past, Merlin might’ve been lying awake at this time, without having even _slept_ yet; thrashing and crying and shaking and screaming. After a millennium and a half of this, how could he truly believe that those days were in the past? How could he ever grow familiar with waking up in the morning and not instantly feeling that bone-deep dread clinging to his insides?

Merlin’s eyes trailed downwards and found the ground much more soothing than the endless expanse of the morning sky. He watched his feet slowly make their way up the pavement; the floor glistening with morning frost and decorated with auburn leaves. There didn’t seem to be any other people out on the same trail; which was understandable. Although, once they reached the town centre he knew that there was bound to be a wave of early morning commuters and students.

The air was so still. Nothing but the the birds chirping and the low hum of distant cars and the branches rustling in the wind… It all felt so _normal._ So _unbelievably_ normal.

And yet, it _wasn’t, _because cutting through the soundscape of Autumnal earliness was another pair of footsteps beside his. Something that he’d been aching to hear for his whole life; and now, _somehow,_ it was apparently happening.

No.

Scratch that; it _was_ happening.

Arthur was walking next to him. The_ Once-And-Future-King-Of-Albion_ was walking next to him. After a_ millennium-and-a-half._

In fact, just the day before he had risen from the lake like a fucking _greek god;_ draped in armour and smelling like _life_ and _love_ and _promise._ He had returned just in time, if Merlin was being honest. The sorcerer was almost ready to swim into that lake and retrieve that fucking blade and impale_ himself._

Merlin had been having a bad time.

Well, _actually, _that was a lie.

He’d been having a bad _century._

He truly believed that Arthur would never come back. That the time was up. That his failures were unforgivable. He’d lost any hope that he had in the outside world. It’s just not possible to function in the modern age when you appear eternally young, _especially_ when trapped in a small town in South-West England. It’s not like he could ever leave the lake. That would mean leaving Arthur. He would rather _die._

Thankfully, it hadn't come to that.

Merlin had run into the lake as fast as his frail legs could carry him. Though it had only happened the day before, it was difficult to remember. Perhaps he had blacked out with the shock of it all; the pure _relief. _After falling an embarrassing amount of times straight into the pneumonia-inducing October water, he was almost certain that he had _thrown his arms around Arthur_ and _smelled his neck_ and _stroked his hair._

_God,_ it was embarrassing.

Arthur didn’t comment on it though, and through Merlin’s insistent tears and emotional babbling they managed to make it back to his shitty little lakeside cabin. Inside, they talked for hours about everything that had happened in the sorcerer’s life. Well, _almost _everything. Arthur seemed indescribably shocked when he found out that Merlin had waited over a thousand years for him.

Merlin was scared; _had he crossed a line?_ _Were his feelings too obvious?_

Was Arthur uncomfortable? Did he not want to live in a world where he wasn’t king? A world where there was no Camelot?

Did he even want Merlin to be at his side as he found his place in the modern age?

But then Arthur had _hugged_ him. Which took the sorcerer completely by surprise, and subsequently caused him to break down into another fresh wave of tears.

He expected Arthur to call him a _girl_, or _weak_, or _ridiculous;_ but he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he just held Merlin tighter.

After that, they talked about the small town of Glastonbury, and the suffocation of eternal youth, and the people who Merlin couldn’t speak with. In a moment of weakness, the sorcerer told his King about how he refused to grow close to anybody, how he spelled everybody he saw into instantly forgetting him, how he had barely _talked_ to another human being since Arthur died... Of how he grew insane, of how he didn’t leave his bed for years, of how he watched the world around him break into shards.

Arthur didn’t say anything; he just stared at a spot behind Merlin’s head with an unreadable expression. 

Merlin told Arthur about the twenty-first century. How he always wished that he could move to London and discover this new and exciting world... And then Arthur simply said that they would move the next day.

And that was that.

The men had packed two bags with everything they needed. Merlin had given Arthur a pile of his own clothes, which were a little too small for the King. They stretched tight over his broad chest and rested above his ankles; Merlin’s stomach flipped at the sight of it. Merlin had money, enough to buy a flat in Central London, which meant that he had a _lot_ of it.

Of _course_ he did, it’s not like he ever _went_ anywhere.

Merlin felt no sadness when he left his home, because it _wasn’t_ his home, not really. His home was the man standing next to him. The sorcerer rolled his eyes at his own sappiness, but how could he _not_ be sappy? This was all that he had ever _wanted._

He caught Arthur’s eye as they approached the town; receiving a gentle smile. Merlin looked away, a blush colouring his cheeks.

_God, what was he doing? This was just Arthur._

_Just Arthur._

He looked back to see a smirk playing on Arthur’s lips; his eyebrow raised in a question.

“Shut up,” Merlin mumbled, shoving him to the side.

He heard the man laugh in return, a sound that he had ached to hear during all those sleepless nights.

Merlin had told Arthur of _trains and cars and planes_ and how people _acted and talked and lived_ these days. As they approached the station, he saw the King’s eyes wander around in understandable confusion.

_How was he handling it so well?_

This was a mistake, what was Merlin_ thinking?_ You can’t just bring somebody from medieval times into the modern age and expect them to _cooperate_ and_ what had he done -_

But then Arthur caught his eye with a small smile and Merlin understood.

_It would all be okay._

Merlin bought their tickets at the strange machine that stood in the train station with Arthur standing closely beside him.

Just two men, with two bags, and two tickets, holding onto the promise of _something new._

_Something greater than themselves._

They made their way onto the platform and sat on a bench, patiently waiting for a train that would take them to their new lives. Merlin stole a glance at Arthur; the man was looking straight ahead, something akin to _calmness_ etched into his features.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked, the gravelly sound of his voice surprising even _himself. _Over the past millennium, he had only spoken when talking to his own psyche, or when he was trying to reach Arthur, or when he was screaming himself hoarse at the night sky. Merlin wasn’t used to casual conversation, _not just yet._ Especially not the type of talking that takes place with friends on train platforms.

Arthur looked at Merlin, acceptance in his eyes.

“Yes,” he replied. “Actually, I’m more than okay.”

The sight of Arthur looking _straight at him_ with _fondness_ in his eyes actually took Merlin’s breath away. He felt the tension that had been living in his heart for the past millennium loosen. Maybe it would take a while for it to disappear _completely_, but the sorcerer would be patient. After all, it seemed that patience paid off.

An announcement filled the air of the station, letting the masses know that the train was approaching. The pair stood up, with Arthur striding forward and Merlin pulling him back behind the yellow line.

“You have to stay behind the line,” he whispered. “The train’s a bit fast.”

As the vehicle thundered down the tracks, Merlin felt his breath catch.

_The modern age was fucking terrifying._

He looked to the man beside him to see how he was processing, and instead saw his eyes focused on something else entirely.

Beside them, two men were saying goodbye on the platform. They embraced each other lovingly, arms intertwined, head’s resting on each other’s shoulders. Before they parted, they shared a gentle kiss; separating only when the train finally stopped. Merlin looked back at Arthur then, suddenly scared that perhaps he would say something inappropriate to them. Merlin mentally kicked himself for not telling Arthur about how this was accepted now, although he supposed that he didn’t want to because of what Arthur might've said.

Merlin _loved_ Arthur, though he _knew_ that Arthur would never return that love.

The King was still looking at them, a crease between his brows. All at once, he turned back to Merlin, an expression of thoughtfulness on his face; which was definitely _not_ what Merlin was expecting.

They stepped onto the train then, finding themselves inside a nearly empty carriage. Arthur brought Merlin to the back, shuffling into a window seat and pulling the sorcerer down next to him. Arthur sat rigidly, his hands clasped firmly on his lap. He looked out the window as the train began moving.

Merlin was worried, maybe Arthur was disgusted. Maybe he hated the modern world, hated what Merlin was.

The sorcerer supposed that he could keep the truth from him forever, although he _had_ always planned to tell him. Maybe it was a sacrifice that he would have to make, maybe -

And then Arthur rested his head on Merlin’s shoulder.

_Rested. His. Head. On. Merlin’s. Shoulder._

Merlin froze, becoming as tense as Arthur seemed to be next to him.

“Is this okay, Merlin?”

The sorcerer sucked in a shuddering breath, his vision blurring.

“Yes, Arthur. It’s more than okay.”

The train sped on, and on it sat two men hurtling towards a life that would soon be theirs.

Merlin relaxed, his hand finding Arthur’s.

_It would all be okay, they had the rest of their lives to work out what they couldn’t explain._

Merlin shut his eyes, sleep pulling at him, a millennia of exhaustion finally subsiding.

_ The End _

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, this is basically pure shit. Thought I'd still post though. Wrote this in two hours as a form of procrastination. Hope you enjoyed anyway! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated :)


End file.
